


Three Days

by Pr_Anx



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Angst, Daxter's the best boyfriend, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6129064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pr_Anx/pseuds/Pr_Anx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Razer messes up big time and Daxter finds out.  Now Daxter's gone and Razer has to find a way to apologize, but an intervention kind of does that for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Days

Razer opened the door slowly, not wanting to wake the other resident of the house -knowing Daxter would be asleep at this time of night, though the light streaming from under the bedroom door could mean otherwise.

That and the strange zipping sound and the quick, hard-soled footsteps approaching the closed bedroom door. Razer's mind went immediately to thoughts of an intruder.

What if Daxter had gone out for a drink or had stayed with someone else during Razer's near-month-long stay across seas. 

Or worse - Razer had just walked in on a crime worse than blind robbery. 

His heart beat quickened, thinking about the gory, bloody scene that would await him on the other side of the door. 

He would see his lover's mangled corpse hanging off the edge of the bed, murdered horrifically during his deep sleep. He would see that plume of hair drenched and dyed even darker red from the blood-

The door opened suddenly, making Razer look up from his unconscious staring match with the floor.

Daxter was fine. He was standing there, decked in his favorite pair of jeans and leather jacket, and duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. He seemed deep in thought, nearly slamming into the elder man before jumping back with a startled yelp and a worried stare.

"Daxter, what are you doing?" Razer asked, his own bag sliding to the floor. Daxter's worry dissolved into fear, and then to anger. The stupid question hung in the air making it feel claustrophobic and heavy.

"That's a stupid fuckin' question when you can clearly see what 'm doin', Raze." It was a stiff but heated response and Razer nearly choked as the red head fixed him with a glare. Daxter let his words sink in before continuing. "I heard about what you did on your little 'meeting'." He pushed pass Razer angrily, leaving the man slack-jawed at the top of the stairs. 

How had he heard about something that was so far away from here?

"Don't even bother askin' how either, I won't tell." Razer turned to him, eyes wide and head spinning, just to see the front door slam.

00--00

For the next two days, Razer sat in a slump. Daxter had left him and all because of a stupid choice he'd made. He couldn't help it - it was in his blood to be a knife-wielding gangster of sorts. 

He had to get his hands dirty, even if it was just for the pleasure of seeing his enemies squirm under his torturous hands. 

Even with his own sort of justification, he still felt guilt for what he'd done. Not because he'd killed someone that had -probably- stolen money from him - but because he'd broken his promise to Daxter.

_“Now, Raze-” Daxter crooned, straightening the lapels on the racer’s jacket. The elder man sighed._

_“I know Daxter, no fights, no gambling, and no booze.” The red head crinkled his nose, glaring up at the slightly taller man. Razer chuckled, swatting Daxter’s hands away only to draw him into a tight embrace._

_“And…?” Daxter asked, breath ghosting across the elder man’s neck. Razer racked his brain for an answer. No fights, no gambling, no booze -that’s all he could remember. There was a half-hearted punch to his shoulder and a sigh from Daxter. “Don’t kill anyone. You’re not a gangster anymore, Raze. Promise you’ll come home with a clean slate.”_

And Razer had sworn. On his life, his car, his trophies, and most importantly he’d sworn on his love for Daxter. 

But he’d broken his promise and Daxter’s trust. And Razer wasn’t very good at apologies.

00—00

Day three wasn’t any better. He’d drunken himself into a slight stupor trying to come up with a good enough apology to win Daxter back. He’d come up with a few, but his pride wouldn’t allow for the words he would have to say.

He looked over to the small wine table beside him, staring at the now-emptied stationary holder. He’d used up all his on-hand paper and he couldn’t, through the haze of alcohol, remember where any more was hidden. 

His gaze strayed from the empty missive, to the crumpled paper surrounding him, then up to the wine bottle –having run out of scotch after the first two days without his red head. 

A clumsy reach was all it took to knock the empty bottle to the floor and send it rolling across the room. It was almost laughable. Not only was he out of paper to write out an apology to rehearse, but he was also out of the one thing that brought those sappy ideas to his mind in the first place. 

Razer sighed, though even that sounded slurred somehow, head unconsciously lolling up towards the ceiling.

_“Hey Raze, what’d’ya want for dinner?” Daxter called from the kitchen. Razer thought for a moment, eyes never straying from the business section._

_“Whatever you feel like making, seeing as it’s your turn to cook.” He smiled as Daxter let out a loud groan. He knew what was coming –it happened every time the red head had to cook._

_“If you don’t tell me, I’ll cook something gross and go out with Jak to eat.” Razer folded the paper to stare over it and at the peeved red head. It was an empty threat. A quick moment of silence and Daxter was storming into the kitchen, grumbling “I’ll cook what I want and I hope he chokes on it, ‘cause I ain’t domesticated an’ I ain’t his wife, fuckin’ dick.”_

_They would end up having breakfast for dinner, complete with bacon, eggs and fried potatoes. The entire time Daxter had been cooking, Razer had been sneaking long-lasting looks to the red head’s posterior._

00—00

Razer could’ve sworn he’d heard the front door open –could’ve sworn he’d heard those horribly squeaky hinges whine in their bearings. He could only manage a small movement at the intruding sound, and groaned as his chin met his chest painfully. 

He heard the shuffle of thick-soled boots against the nearly tattered mat in front of the squeaky door, and the sound of something heavy hitting the wood floor before everything went silent and he thought maybe he’d passed out again. He _had_ gone through another two bottles since yesterday.

He hadn’t slept in two days, hadn’t eaten since….? The sounds were probably just hallucinations caused by lack of everything other than alcohol in his system. He’d sat in this chair for three days –as the first day was full of anger and destruction of things he forced himself to clean up as soon as they were broken. 

Then the sounds started again, only, this time, they were getting louder –and they were coming straight for him. 

Fuck if it was a burglar or serial killer or some random homeless man breaking in because he thought the house was empty –though it wouldn’t be considered breaking in if Razer hadn’t thought to actually lock the door in the first place.

“Raze? Oh fuck, Razer! Come on buddy, wake up.” There were cold, thin hands on his cheeks - the short stubble making it hard to tell who they belonged to, but this was a hallucination anyway, so what did it matter? “C’mon babe, speak to me.” 

The voice was getting frantic - calling out something he couldn’t hear - the hands more inquisitive - grasping at his pulse, his forehead, cheeks, hands –until another, harder pair of hands was hoisting him up into their arms and soon, down onto the soft downy bed he’d nearly forgotten existed.

The cold hands were finally registering as they expertly unclipped his jacket and slid it off and onto the bedpost. Razer smiled as Daxter’s cold hands returned to his too-hot cheeks.

“I thought…you were gone.” Razer croaked out. 

“I was, but the boys were worried about you, so I came back to make sure you didn’t drink yourself into a coma –and by the looks of it babe, you just might’ve.” Daxter joked with a small smile. Razer lifted an arm to clumsily stroke the red head’s cheek.

“I am so sorry. I screwed up and you have every right to hate me, every right to leave me and go back to that blonde buffoon,” Razer couldn’t stop himself. The four lonely days of drunken hell had finally started to take their toll, leaving his brain detached and his mouth unable to form proper syllables, or even stop going altogether. 

“I tried to – to write you and figure out what the hell I should tell you to get you to come back, but nothing sounded right –nothing sounded gen-gen…real?” It was more of a question than a statement, but Daxter understood.

“Raze-“

“No, let me finish, because I know you’re just a drunken hallu-hallucin-figment of my imagination and you’ll just be gone when I wake up - so just let me say what I have to.” But he didn’t really didn’t want to talk, the headache from the alcohol slowly taking over his ability to form words.

Daxter didn’t say anything as he sat on the other side of the bed, running a soothing hand through Razer’s hair. 

He’d never been one for shows of affection –unless, of course, it was during the night when he was able to cuddle up to his boyfriend- but now seemed as good as time as any to show some much needed affection. Razer unconsciously grabbed Daxter’s wrist, but not enough to stop his ministrations.

“I wrote you a letter de-describing all the things I would do to get you to take me back, all the things I would say the next I saw you –even if you were with that moron. I love you, D-axter an-and I don’t want to lose you to fucking _Jak_ of all people.” He stopped suddenly, seemingly at a loss of words. 

“You’re not gonna lose me to Jak” –there was a scoff from the other side of the room- “Even if you couldn’t cook or sucked at cuddling or forgot all my favorite things. Fuck, Raze. If I knew you were gonna to do this, I would’ve just lectured you and made you sleep on the couch for a week.” 

Daxter chuckled at his own joke, his hands stopping their movement. “I’m totally not sayin’ that’s _not_ gonna happen, but it’s okay, Raze –I’m home now.” 

Daxter watched as Razer smiled and closed his eyes slowly, alcohol finally wearing him out.

**Author's Note:**

> I really didn't know how to end this properly, but, seeing as there's going to be a second part, I think I'm safe there~


End file.
